


Haunt Me Then

by ashotofjac, Ghostcat



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, And they were soulmates, Inspired by Buzzfeed Unsolved, M/M, Mental Institutions, Past Lives, dick jokes for days, dusty handjob, mild discussions of inhumane conditions in 20th century mental hospitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26161696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashotofjac/pseuds/ashotofjac, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostcat/pseuds/Ghostcat
Summary: Norway's Most Haunted co-hosts Even and Isak take their continuing investigation of the supernatural to an abandoned mental hospital in this week's special episode,The Horrors of Hallager Hospital.
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 36
Kudos: 157





	Haunt Me Then

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MinilocIsland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinilocIsland/gifts).



> This came up in a convo with Raz about the prompt “Past Lovers,” which I think means they used to be lovers, like _recently_ , but naturally, my brain went...in their _PAST LIVES_. Don't ask how the ghosts and demons came into it.
> 
> We think you're aces, Razza! Happy birthday! 💕 - your faraway friends, Ghostcat and ashotofjac

A woman with sharp brown eyes and a single braid hanging down her back stares directly into the camera. Elias has one knee pressed into the rocky drive, the other propped up to stabilize him as he shoots her with a low angle shot. The position is not doing her any favors. It makes her look comically threatening, but not frightening, not credible, and it warps her face.

She seems to agree. “I don’t like this angle. It’s giving me jowls.”

Elias moves so the camera is angled higher. The woman now has her chin raised; it’s a haughty chin. She has her hands crossed in front of her in mismatched mittens.

An immense eighteenth-century building is a menacing shadow at her back. The sky is the vibrant, glowing cobalt of twilight and the wind howls around them like a pack of wolves.

When the woman purses her lips, Even can see the deep web of wrinkles around her mouth.

“After a strong perusal of the perimeter,” she says, “I have determined that I will not enter this building. I can tell you that there are definitely spirits here. They’re mostly patients. It’s tragic. Some of them are very young and should never have been sent here.” The medium tilts her head as if listening to distant music. “They are all talking to me right now.”

To her right, Isak—tall, blonde, young—yawns, long and loud, then looks around at the ensuing silence. “Sorry?”

Even presses his lips together so he won’t smile. Or laugh.

The woman stares at Isak and Isak stares right back, ever bold. “Are we going…?” he says and points in the direction of the front double doors.

“Your mother loved your gift.”

Both of Isak’s eyebrows nearly reach his hairline. He’s not fazed—Even’s never really seen Isak fazed—but he’s not completely unaffected either. “My mother is alive.”

“Yes,” the woman agrees. There’s something like satisfaction sparking in her eyes. “And she has the gift in her hands right now.”

Even watches this all play out with a look of barely concealed delight. He can feel the corners of his mouth stretching wide as his gaze volleys back and forth.

But then she switches focus. “They’re also telling me about you two,” she tells them, looking between Isak and Even.

“The spirits are?” Isak leans in. “What the-”

“You and him.” She points first at Isak and then at Even with a mittened hand.

Even quickly understands and raises both hands in innocence. “Oh, we’re not together.” Has he thought about it before? Sure. Has he done anything but harmlessly flirt every once in a while and overanalyze Isak’s staring? Not really.

“That would never, n-n-ooo, I don’t-” Isak says at the same time. He stops and apologizes immediately, a blush high up on his cheeks.

Even shrugs, unaffected. Maybe it’s for the best. After what happened with Mikael and losing him as a co-host… Even doesn’t want to be the guy that crushes on—falls for—his co-host. Not again. It’s clichéd and Even abhors cliché.

The woman closes her eyes and leans her head back to the sky. Isak is about to say something, but Even holds a finger to his lips, warmth seeping into his skin. They wait.

“Yes,” she says after too long. Her brown eyes open and the pupils narrow to a pinpoint. “You two have been lovers.”

“What?” Isak laughs.

“Isak and me?” Even holds a hand to his chest where his heart has begun to race. “No, I’d definitely remember that.” Definitely.

“In a past life,” she explains.

Isak mumbles under his breath, “Of course.”

“No. _Lives_.” She draws the _sssss_ out. “For… _centuries_.”

“Centuries?” Even asks, intrigued. While Isak rolls his eyes, Even is being unwillingly lured in by the romanticism of a past life. Of past lives.

“Centuries.” She pauses, closes her eyes, and lifts up her sweater sleeve over her wrist to scratch at her elbow. They watch her carefully, expecting another message. She opens her eyes again and squints at them. “A mosquito bit me. Why we're still getting them now is beyond me… Where was I?”

Isak’s voice is impossibly flat. “Centuries.”

“Millenia!” Her shout is loud enough to startle some night birds out of the surrounding pines. “Thousands and thousands and _thousands_ of years. It is always the two of you, time and time again.”

Even steeples his hands and brings them up to his lips, nodding solemnly. Mostly for the dramatics, but also a little bit because he believes her, or perhaps wants to believe her. Isak looks at the camera as if the world has gone mad.

Elias calls _cut_. Behind him, inside the van, the image on the monitor freezes on Isak’s flabbergasted expression.

* * *

THE NORWAY’S MOST HAUNTED logo slams on the screen.

A shot of a narrow room with crumbling, peeling bright red-orange paint that looks like a painting of a fire. A curving staircase leading up several floors, with a sink incongruously placed by a banister. The view from a broken window of a far-off village, naked tree branches swaying in the wind.

After editing, the picture will go in and out of focus for the first few seconds before settling on Even and Isak sitting together on a bench in front of a wall mural of a snowy winter scene done up in blues and greens with a luridly yellow sky.

Even smiles at the camera. “Hello, thank you for joining us for another episode of Youtube sensation Norway’s Most Haunted, where known skeptic Isak Valtersen and I, Even Bech Næsheim, spiritual believer-”

“Enabler?” Isak considers.

“-try to find evidence of the paranormal to prove once and for all that ghosts are real.”

Isak faces the camera with a deadpan stare. “We’re not going to find any. Because ghosts _aren’t_ real.”

“Hey! Don’t tell the audience what they’ll be seeing. Let them find out for themselves!”

“I’m sorry, was that a spoiler? My bad.”

Even continues. “Today we bring you up to the town of Hallagershage, a little over two hours and twenty minutes north of Oslo.”

A clever infographic pops up on the screen of the Norway’s Most Haunted bright yellow van, N.M.H. spray painted on its side in imitation of the N.W.A. font, following the path of an arrow and dash lines from the University of Oslo to their destination.

“In the mid-eighteenth century, Hallagershage revolved around its sole industry―Hallager Hospital for the Feebleminded. Either you were a doctor, nurse, or guard at the hospital. Or you worked at businesses that served those that worked at the hospital. Or you were a patient. And there were very many patients.”

Isak raises an eyebrow. “This was not a curative institution, so before reform.”

“Oh yes, way before. It inspired the schlocky horror film _Hallager Horror Hell Hospital_.” A brief clip of a screaming half-naked nurse plays.

“Say that five times fast.”

“What? _Hallager Horror Hell Hospital_?” Even tries and gives up before the third time. “Yeah, it’s a mouthful. And that,” he says, turning back to the camera with his best smile, “is what she said.”

“Ugh.”

“So stick around and join us as we uncover the secrets of Hallager Hospital.” Even winks.

* * *

The visual on the laptop is simple. A young man with curly black hair making faces and crossing his eyes.

“Cut,” a voice calls out off-screen. “You got a face made for the movies, Mutta.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“Is it really necessary to say cut, Elias? If you’re the one holding the camera?” Isak grumbles from his perch in the back of the van.

“Fuck yeah.” Elias shrugs. “Besides, it’s pure habit at this point.”

Isak rubs his hands together. “Even. Did you bring the extra warm sleeping bags? It’s fucking freezing.”

Even doesn’t even turn around. He gazes up somberly at the looming buildings of Hallager’s Hospital. “We are about to spend the night in one of the most haunted locations in Norway and you’re worried about the cold?”

Isak calls out, “Statistically speaking, we are more likely to die of hypothermia than be ghost-murdered.”

“You don’t know that.” Even swivels and moves to stand in front of Isak in too-few steps. “A ghost could be responsible for the cold that ‘statistically’ kills you.”

Isak’s eyes remain steely. “So...the ghost can create, I don’t know, a spectral cold air mass? And direct it right to someone.”

“Yes.”

“That’s handy. Can I hire this ghost?”

Mutta laughs. “Why aren’t we filming this?”

“Good question,” Elias mumbles.

Even strides over to them, rubbing his hands together. “So who’s coming in with us?”

“Chris and me. Chris’s aunt’s friend who is a medium. Vilde and Chris are going to pick her up and bring her here. The lady doesn’t like to drive after she gives readings.” Mutta thumbs through his phone, looking for Vilde’s latest itinerary. “Before you ask, Isak, no, she didn’t say why.”

“Chris’s...aunt’s...friend?” Even asks slowly.

“Karin.” Mutta looks up, grins. “Good ole Karin.”

“She lives in Odnes,” Elias continues, which adds nothing to Even’s understanding of who this person is.

“Is she a legit spiritualist?”

Mutta nods. “Talk to Vilde. She spoke to her last night on the phone and Karin started telling her stuff about her ex-boyfriend that there’s no way she could have known.”

The sound of car wheels approaching makes them all stand together. Even glances back at the hospital. The hairs on the back of his neck raise. His skin feels tight.

“What is it?” Isak nudges him.

“Do you feel like people are watching you from those windows?”

“No. There isn’t anyone there.” Isak’s confidence should be reassuring. But it isn’t.

Camera operator Chris Berg’s blue Peugeot pulls up and their producer Vilde pops out, quickly opening the door to the woman in the backseat―the spiritualist, Karin, who rises from the car gazing steadily at the main building behind them.

* * *

Karin leaves after her reading and they all have a good laugh. Even immediately puts his arm around Isak and Isak wiggles out of his grasp, hoarsely whispering, “Stop it.”

Even chuckles. “That’s not something a lover would say.”

“Good thing we aren’t lovers then,” Isak says.

Even’s brows raise in faux scandal. “Tell that to the centuries of Evens and Isaks before us.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but doesn’t respond. He turns his face up to the hospital instead. “Only three floors above the ground floor. Those are big windows though.”

“Bars on every single one,” Even murmurs.

The hospital is a looming testament to decades past. It is a corpse not only in name; time has not been kind to its brick-and-mortar face. The brick is crumbling, almost worn through in some places, suffocated with a sheath of tangled ivy in others. Its windows—soulless eyes—are yellow and aged, caged shut by mean black iron bars. A crude spray painting of a dick arches over the entryway.

Isak snorts. “Did you draw that?” Before Even can answer, Isak tuts teasingly and says, “Not your best work.” Even likes the way Isak teases, even if Isak doesn’t mean it in that way.

Even decides to play back. “I thought it was stately. Erect, even.”

“Why do I do this to myself?”

“Upon review,” he says seriously, “I should have drawn it spurting jizz like raindrops. And a rainbow behind it.” He extends his hand and arm in a long arch and sighs. “A missed opportunity.”

Isak seems unimpressed. He cocks one eyebrow. “You’re going to offend all these ghosts you love so much.”

Even smiles, unable to help himself. “Don’t get jealous now. You’re the only one for me.”

They return to the van to go over the evening’s plans before they lose all light.

The map is withered, cracked and curling at the edges, but still legible. It betrays an intricate system of wards, rooms, and what looks to be tunnels running beneath the earth like worms.

“The top two levels house the women’s ward. The east ward is safe, and you’ll want to stick to the east stairwell in general. The west ward sustained some serious storm damage a few years ago so who knows how safe the flooring is over there. Steer clear. The first floor is the children’s floor, which should be fine to linger on.” Vilde's finger runs across the length of the map. “On the ground floor you’ll find the kitchen, the sanitation room, the laundry facilities, some night staff sleep rooms and the hydrotherapy rooms. Oh, and here-” She points to a line that looks more like a scratch than part of the map. “-is the door that will take you down to the basement tunnels and the, uh, morgue.”

“Where should we sleep?” Isak asks, completely bypassing the mention of a morgue. He looks bored already. Probably _is_ bored already. Some days Even wonders why Isak even offered to be a co-host. Not only is he a nonbeliever, he’s also a full-time med student. And yet, he seems to make time to film these episodes and make the occasional visit to the crew’s weekly hangouts at the bar.

“Women’s ward on the top floor,” Vilde answers. “The east-side dormitories. They’re the safest. And the cleanest.”

Even taps the map. “I think we should sleep in the morgue.”

“Fuck that,” Isak gripes.

“Oh, I thought ghosts weren’t real?”

“They aren’t. But you heard Vilde. If I’m going to sleep in some dirty abandoned building, it’s going to be the cleanest option.”

Even smirks. “Scared to get dirty?”

Isak stills, narrowing his eyes when he sees the slanted smirk on Even’s face. “ _No_ , I can get dirty.”

“Oh, I bet you can.”

Isak scoffs. “Grow up. Besides, I’m not the one that starts crying as soon as the light turns off. You’ll thank me later.”

Even lifts both hands in surrender. No matter how much he likes to tease, he knows not to push. “Fine.” He watches Isak for a moment, frowning as Isak’s lips slowly sharpen in a growing grin. “Why are you doing that?”

“I was just thinking...you’re right. We should spend some time in the morgue. Maybe we can do some solo, in-the-dark footage there.”

Isak has big, expressive eyes which are rarely used to full effect. His default is to squint at everything and everyone in suspicion, defiance, or plain disinterest. But there are rare moments when he relaxes or teases, and there they are―long-lashed, green, and wide. As innocent as a child’s, with a wily squiggle of a mouth to go with them. He looks as if he should have chocolate smeared on his cheek while saying, _No, I didn’t eat the cake. It wasn’t me._

“I don’t like this,” Even says slowly, suspiciously. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Well, Even. If I can draw your attention to this spot on the map...the morgue connects to a tunnel where the hospital staff would dispose of the bodies.”

“Nooooo.” Even laughs.

“Yes.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh, yes you are.”

“Head’s up!” Mutta shouts and throws a flashlight at Isak, which he catches deftly with his left hand.

“When is Chris coming back?” Even asks, catching the second flashlight. The light flickers on it.

“In about half an hour, as soon as she drops Karin off at her house,” Vilde says in her high, lilting voice. “Then Mutta and I will take the Peugeot back to the hotel. Chris and Elias will leave when you guys feel like you have enough master shot footage. Then you can settle in for the night and we’ll pick you up at seven.”

Even turns back to the building. “Can you come earlier? Six?”

Vilde smiles. “Yes, six is fine.”

* * *

Chris returns and Vilde and Mutte take off as planned. Even and Isak both carry personal cameras that they usually train on each other. Chris and Elias pick up their larger cameras and follow the two at a short distance.

“You guys can walk ahead. Let me get a shot of you entering the building together.”

“How does my ass look?” Even asks over his shoulder as he sidles up to Isak.

“Don’t tell him,” Isak says.

“Well, that’s unfair. I would tell you.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Both your asses look great, guys,” Chris says, with a shrill wolf whistle for emphasis.

Even grins. “Thanks, Chris.” He pauses and leans in to whisper reassuringly in Isak’s ear. “She’s right, you know. Yours looks great.”

Isak’s neck flushes.

There’s evidence of trespassers at the heavy double doors―cigarette butts and gum wrappers, a discarded, empty can of Tuborg. Isak kicks it to the side where it clatters off the steps into a bush.

He smirks at Even’s camera. “These ghosts like to party.”

Even looks up one more time and takes a deep breath. Gingerly, he places both hands on the door handles and pulls. The doors are heavier than they look. When one handle nearly slips from his grip, he gives a surprised grunt, but forgets to say anything about it when a wind seems to course through the front hallway of the building and out the door with a long, menacing _whoosh_.

“Woooah. It’s like all the spirits got out.”

“Well done, Even. You’ve unleashed evil upon the world.”

“At least they won’t be in here.” Even gestures to Isak. “After you.”

“Of course.”

The doors open into a large foyer wherein a curious mishmash of dusty furniture of varying ages is discarded. An old-fashioned school chair and desk combination, scratched with names and tipped on its side. An announcement board on the wall, made of plastic, not glass. A bit of stained glass in the entry window, in myriad shades, missing three panes exactly. A lopsided stack of wooden crates beneath the window, full of yellowed newspapers.

The walls are peeling, pale paint sloughing off like burnt skin, leaving behind a mottled canvas of grey and yellow and white. It smells old, stale, forgotten.

Even is in awe. His full mouth is parted, eyes wide and unable to stay in one place for long. “Wow,” he mouths quietly, reverent even in his wonder.

Isak curls his lip and kicks lazily at a pile of drywall chips. “It smells like shit. Cat shit.”

Vilde’s map shows that there is a hydro-wing to their left, down a wide corridor with warped, wooden flooring. Over their heads, there are cracks and holes in the corners, where ivy has crept in, reclaiming the ruin.

They enter a large room full of rusty tin tubs and sickly green-tiled walls. The floors are also tiled, with broken bits where the flooring has come apart. It makes a crunching sound under their feet.

Even shivers. “Fuck, I’m cold all of a sudden. Are you cold?”

“Yes, it’s December and we are in a decaying building with no heat and actual holes to the outside.” Isak shines a flashlight on the tubs. “What are these for?”

“To calm the patients. Water therapy. There used to be a pool somewhere too. I think it’s in the men’s building.”

“Doesn’t seem that bad.”

Even shakes his head. “Reports say there were frequent ice baths.”

“But do you notice something?”

“What?”

Isak shines his flashlights on all the tubs. “They’re so close together. Hold on-” He jumps in one. “Come on, go in the other one.”

“No.”

“You can do it. Here, I’ll ask permission. Dear spirits of the lavatory, please let Even take a pretend bath. Make some noise for yes.”

They stop talking and listen. It’s silent for nearly a minute when suddenly there’s a mournful sound from the area where the stairs are.

Even’s heart flips upside down. “What the fuck?”

“Sounds like an owl. I’ll take it. Come on, get in.”

Even shines a flashlight in one. It’s dusty but not dirty exactly; he gets in and sits. Isak reaches out.

“Take my hand.”

Isak stretches his fingers out impatiently and Even takes his hand. Goosebumps crop up on his skin, but not from the cold.

“See? Bath friends.”

“Can I get out now?”

“Aaaw, don’t be scared, Even. The ghosts said it was chill.”

Even clenches his jaw a little and steps out. “They definitely didn’t.” He clears his throat. “Down the way are the sleeping quarters for the staff and guards that were on call during night shifts. Not a lot of rooms, but a few. People have reported seeing shadows following them on the walls.”

“You mean like an actual shadow cast by their own bodies? Creepy.”

They take an odd shortcut from the back of the hydro-wing. “Why are they so close to the baths?”

“Good question, Isak. They used to house both women and men in this building but after too many of the female patients wound up pregnant, they moved the men to the other building across the field.”

“Let me guess. They still wound up pregnant.”

Even nods. “It’s fucked up.”

“What happened to the babies?”

“I think they stayed here. Grew up.”

“As patients?” Isak shakes his head. “I’m out of jokes.”

The staff sleeping quarters are locked up. Isak manages to pry open a door just wide enough to peer inside.

Elias whispers off-camera. “Stick your hand in, Isak. Keep it there for five minutes.”

Isak makes a thumbs up at the camera and slowly slips his hand in. “I think I’ve seen this horror movie...something or someone...bites my hand off.” He frowns. “What the fuck. Something just licked my...what is-”

Even’s shaking so badly, he can barely hold the camera on Isak. “What is it?”

And then Isak starts screaming and the sound booms throughout the hall, loud and terror-stricken. Even puts his camera down, runs and grabs a hold of Isak and pulls him away from the door.

Isak slumps against him and pulls his arm out, slowly wiggling his hand from his sleeve and putting it on Even’s face.

“You asshole!” Even is nearly hyperventilating. “And you two? Why weren’t you freaking out? Were you in on it?”

“Nope.” Chris chews her gum and cackles. “But we knew it was bogus, because, unlike you, Elias and I know Isak is a little shit. Elias, stop looking so constipated. We’ll cut that later.”

Isak’s laughter is too joyous. He jogs down the crusty, decaying, turquoise-colored hall as if it were a playground, raising a flashlight over his head in victory.

They go one flight up to the children’s ward.

Isak’s flashlight flares across the hallway, highlighting a patch of pale pink wall that has clung to time far better than the rest of the hospital. It is an almost cheery color in a cheerless place. He points the flashlight at the ground. A one-eyed teddy bear is covered with dust and lying in their way. He steps over it.

Behind him, Even stoops in the dark and picks up the bear with one hand, shining his own flashlight on its sad face. His bottom lip pouts slightly. He smooths a circle over its soft belly with his thumb.

Isak sighs, turns, points his light straight into Even’s eyes just to be a dick. “What?”

Even blinks away the pain and ducks out of the line of light. “It’s sad.”

“It’s a bear,” Isak deadpans.

“Not the bear.” Even’s face is thoughtful. “The fact that this was someone’s… A child’s.”

“Everything was someone’s, Even.” This time when he speaks, Isak’s voice is a shade gentler. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The next room over is painted with drawings of animals. Their eyes are too large and they’re not in proportion to one another or even the space they’re in. A lion towers over a tree, its mane a sea of rolling curls. In the corner sits a still-decorated Christmas tree. The rest of the room is bare, save for a ball. Dusty and off-white, with a ring of blue stars.

Isak kicks the ball into a corner. “You want to sleep in here tonight instead?”

Even shines his flashlight on the animals on the wall and Elias follows the light with his camera. The last one is a comically thin snake that resembles a long string of gum. Both of its eyes are on one side of his head.

“I think we should stay in the east ward, like Vilde suggested?”

Somewhere down the hall, there’s a series of knocks.

“What...” Even swallows. “...was that?”

“Old ass pipes probably. Building noises.” Isak sneezes and confidently strides off in the direction of the sound. “Yoo hoo, ghosts! I’m coming!”

They listen to Isak’s footsteps going up the two flights to the women’s ward.

Chris laughs. “He just does not give a fuck. I love him.”

“We’re not supposed to be here, Chris,” Elias sighs. “Come on, we’re the silent film crew.”

“Oh, just cut it later. Live a little.”

Even moves toward the door and nearly trips on the blue ball right at his feet. “Didn’t Isak just kick this into the corner?”

Elias, busy filming the view through the bars, shakes his head. “I didn’t see anything.”

He can practically hear Isak’s voice saying, _the floor is sloped, probably_. Just in case it isn’t, he rolls it back to the same corner Isak kicked it to.

“Eveeeeeen,” Isak calls out faintly. “You gotta see this. It’s nothing but bedrooms. I call dibs on the first one. It’s a single.”

Even follows the sound of Isak’s voice and finds him inspecting a dirty mattress on a peeling white iron frame. The single bed is equipped on either side with thick brown leather straps with gleaming grommets and buckles, sinister even as they lie slack in the dust. Around him, the walls are done up in strips of yellow and white-striped wallpaper that has peeled and curled and cracked and separated from years of disrepair. And, at various intervals, there are iron bars set into the walls waist-high, as if for climbing.

Isak spots Even and waves his hand dismissively. “I like the kicky wallpaper. Go find your own.”

“Wait, we’re not sleeping in the same room?”

Isak looks closely at the single bed by a barred window. “Why would we?”

“Uh, because this place is haunted?”

Isak chuckles. “First off, no, it’s not. Second, you’re a grown man.” He glances at Even over his shoulder. “You can handle sleeping alone for one night.”

“Not in a haunted hospital, I can’t.”

“I believe in you,” Isak says. “Besides these beds are narrow as fuck. We couldn’t both fit in one.”

Even switches tactics. “Is there a reason you don’t want to sleep in the same room as me?” He waits until Isak looks back again. “Afraid you can’t handle it?”

“Can’t handle it,” Isak repeats without inflection.

“Afraid you won’t be able to resist me,” Even elaborates with a shaky smile. His bravado is thin and wavering in the face of darkness and ghosts.

“Please.” Isak drags the word out in disbelief. “I don’t need any help resisting you, thank you very much.”

“You sure about that?”

“Very.” Isak goes back to spreading his sleeping bag out on the bed, seemingly uninterested in whatever Even’s going to say next.

“So you seriously aren’t going to let me sleep in here,” Even says.

“Nope,” Isak says back lightly, leaning over the bed to smooth his hand over the corners of his sleeping bag. The bed creaks angrily beneath his knee.

Even waits a beat, two, three, but Isak doesn’t give. “Fine.”

By the time Even has found another room—the next room over—and thrown his own sleeping bag over the bed closest to the door, Isak, Elias, and Chris are waiting in the hallway.

“Took you long enough,” Isak says when Even emerges.

“I would’ve been quicker if you’d have let me sleep with you.”

* * *

Because Isak is an absolute dick and Even’s hard won cool goes out the window during these solo, night vision five-minutes-in-hell type solo shoots, they start with the morgue. They go down several flights on a crumbling staircase.

“Why are morgues always in the basement?”

“To be closer to Hell, obviously.” Isak says, rolling his eyes. “Demons need fresh corpses for their devil’s work.”

“Stop,” Even pleads.

“I don’t know. For the disposal, I imagine? Also, you don’t need a view to do an autopsy.” Isak kicks away a piece of debris. “Do you know where this corpse shute leads? Is it like a pit? Or an incinerator.” Isak cups his hand by his mouth. “Yo, ghosts, where did the bodies go? Whisper it in Even’s ear.”

“No, ghosts, please don’t listen to my...associate.” In order to get back at Isak, he adds, “I mean soulmate. Forever-lover?”

Isak’s face scrunches adorably. “Ghosts! I changed my mind. Don’t whisper it in Even’s ear. Scream it in his face and give him a spirit-wedgie while you’re at it.”

Of course, the basement is darker than the floor they came from and every time their flashlights swing, it appears like someone could be sitting in the spot they’ve just passed over.

There’s a long hall, only as wide as a gurney and more penis graffiti on the walls.

“You were busy.”

In the middle of the hall, there’s a coil of green. Isak kneels down to inspect it.

“Isak, don’t. It could be a-”

Isak turns around holding a hose.

“...snake.” Even would almost feel silly if his heart wasn’t galloping inside his chest.

“They must have used this to hose down the hallways. Did you say this place was lobotomy central?”

"Yes, more than a thousand rumored lobotomies, though records were so poorly kept. It could be an urban legend… It's also believed that this hospital used other experimental techniques on their patients, like dosing them with LSD and subjecting them to forced electroconvulsive therapy treatment, before it shut down permanently in 1989."

Their steps crunch on cement debris and Chris and Elias are far enough from them that the light from their cameras is as narrow as a searchlight.

Isak gestures with his chin to a door. “Here.”

Dusty medical equipment is still stacked against one wall, with fat, spiraling cords like old telephones. The other wall is lined with body drawers. Isak pulls at one, struggling with it until it finally gives in one long groan. Its nickel slab is empty.

“I’d tell you to get in, but I don’t think it’s long enough for you.”

“What about you?” Even laughs through his fear and disgust. “You talk a big game.”

Isak doesn’t hesitate to hop on with a terrifying, shuddering _clang_.

“Isak!” Even hisses, stepping forward.

“Come on. Close it. Give me ten minutes.” Isak cocks his head and if he weren’t surrounded by the paraphernalia of death, Even might find it cute.

“Five.”

“Why?”

“In case you can’t breathe.”

Isak mulls it over with a full body eye-roll. “Fine, leave it open a crack.”

Even keeps an eye on his wristwatch and Isak starts rapping inside the drawer, voice tinny.

“Isak, no.”

He picks up in volume. “‘I just toss that ham in the fryin' pan like spam. It's done when I come in… Slam! Damn, I feel like the Son of Sam. Don't make me wreck ya hectic, automatic got me goin' like Gen'ral Electric. Damn! The lights are blinking I'm thinking, it's all over when I go out drinking’...fuck, I can’t remember the rest. Let’s just go to chorus… Insane in the membrane... INSANE IN THE BRAIN!’”

Even pulls out the drawer. “You are so offensive.”

“Why are you smiling then?” Isak winks. “You wanna give this a go?”

Elias cuts in. “Guys, we should do the tunnels since Chris and I need to head back to the hotel for some sleep if you want us here on time tomorrow morning.

The long tunnel past the morgue leads to an even narrower tunnel and it goes on seemingly forever, sloping downward.

“Holy shit. This really is a tunnel to Hades.”

Isak snorts. “Come on.”

Their steps echo down the corridor. There’s a rattling sound up ahead and they both freeze.

“That.” Even gulps. “Sounded like a death rattle.”

“An undead being making the sounds of their own death? For what? Nostalgia? No. Let’s keep going.” Isak does a little skip. “What would happen you think, if we rolled that ball from upstairs down here. What would we hear at the end?”

“I don’t want that poor ball having to live at the bottom of the corpse pit.”

“It’s a ball. It doesn’t have feelings.”

“You’re no fun.”

Isak laughs. “You want to know what’s fun, Even? Outside of all of this, you’re the person that’s always leading, and I’m the guy that follows a few moments later. Not here though.” He turns around and nods. “If spooky things are involved, you follow _me_.”

They don’t make it to the end because finally they reach a barrier made of thick plastic, securing the corridor from the rest of it.

“Okay, Even. You know the drill. Turn off your light, we’ll turn off ours. Then you and the ghosts will hang out in the dark for ten minutes.”

“Five.”

“Ten. Nonnegotiable. I’ll count off…”

Isak begins to walk away and Even reaches out for him. “Isak. Don’t go too far.”

“Come on, Even. You can do this.” He turns around again. “On a ten-count. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten. Lights off.”

Chris and Elias shut off their lights first, then Even, and then Isak, who nods at him from a distance.

And then it’s dark.

Even backs up to the wall and tries to calm his heart. He talks to the camera since it’s filming him in night vision.

“Okay, ghosts. You know I’m freaking out here and you know why. I’m hoping you guys are the patients and not, like, sadistic guards or any-”

There’s a sudden loud banging on the other side of the plastic and Even jumps. “What the fuck! So you are guards.”

Silence.

“Or patients.”

The banging happens again, but further away.

“Patients. I can deal with patients.”

The temperature drops considerably and Even thinks of Isak, standing not too far away. Close enough to run to.

“Why were you sent here?”

The hall is silent.

“I’m sorry.”

His teeth are chattering and yet, he experiences a feeling of overwhelming relief. Something like peace and he forgets where he is. Forgets long enough for the walls to go white again, the corridor to be bright and clean though the damp smell remains.

“Even!”

He startles. Isak is pulling him by the arm. “That was ten minutes. You okay? Did the demons come?”

“Maybe.”

Isak nods. “My turn then?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Isak’s stint was unremarkable. He sang a medley of dog-themed songs for some reason, complete with barks, signing off with, “Night, death pit ghosts! Hope you enjoyed the show. Please be sure to give your reviews to my longtime soulmate, Even. He’s dying to hear from you!”

Elias whispers to Even, “Please don’t murder him tonight.”

They go back up to the second floor and set up the cameras in the rooms where Isak and Even will sleep and then they all go downstairs. Isak and Even wave Elias and Chris off and the van disappears down the long drive out, until it’s just a pair of red tail lights like demon eyes in the dark.

The moon is full and bright. Even holds back the urge to howl.

“So now we have to answer the most important question of the night,” Isak murmurs.

“What?”

“Do we pee in the woods or in some weird bathroom upstairs?”

The woods wins.

The climb back up to the women’s wards is a lot more exhausting when sleep beckons at the other end. Even goes into the big room and while his backpack is where he left it, his sleeping bag is gone and so is the bed it was on. He turns to count the remaining beds, he's sure there were five but now there are only four. Just then, Isak walks in.

“When the hell did you move that bed in there?”

“What?”

Isak raises an eyebrow. “Okay, whatever, Even.”

Dumbly, Even follows Isak back to his room. There’s another bed, pushed against the other one. His sleeping bag’s on top.

“Umm, I didn’t do this.”

“Okay,” Isak sighs and crosses his arms. “It was probably Chris and Elias’s idea of a hilarious prank. It’s fine. You can stay.”

It’s not like they brought pajama sets. Even slips on a pair of sweatpants over his thermals and keeps his sweatshirt on. Isak does pretty much the same, though for a single, heartstopping second he stretches, exposing his entire midriff. Not a sliver of skin, but a whole expanse of flesh and muscle. Even is slightly awed. From looking at him, he hadn’t expected it.

The beds are a fucking nightmarish symphony of creaking and Even wiggles in his sleeping bag like a caterpillar, trying to find the right position on his side.

There’s creaking from behind him and soon he feels Isak’s warm breath on his neck.

“Y’know, you haven’t seemed that scared here. Like you were at Bærums verk and Akershus Fortress.”

“You gave. My phone number and address. To the foundry static ghost.”

“Has it called you?”

“No.” Even looks over his shoulder; the bed creaks as Isak settles on his back. “I admit, I wasn’t at my best when we did Akershus Fortress, but you know that place is haunted as shit, Isak.”

“I mean. You’ve been scared here, but not like that. It’s not even as bad as the other ones.”

“Other ones?”

It’s clear that Isak is uncomfortable admitting this. “Yeah, I’ve, uh, seen some of your other episodes. When Mikael was your co-host.”

“You have?” There’s delight in Even’s voice.

“Yeah. And you’re a total wimp in them.”

It’s quiet as Isak’s admission sinks in, settles around them. Even considers the fact that Isak is watching his reactions close enough to compare them to not only past experiences, but past episodes as well. He wonders what it means that Isak notices. He wonders what it means that his own fear is diluted, given the place.

“Honestly, I expected to be more scared too.”

Isak turns on his side. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Even blinks slowly at the ceiling. The moon shines through the bars on the windows, casting their shadows up there. “Because...had I been born in a different time, I would’ve probably ended up here. Or a place very much like this one.” He pauses, watching the shadows of the spindly branches outside sway in the wind. “And that _should_ make this place more frightening, but...somehow it doesn’t.”

The air swells with tension. Or maybe that’s just Even. Suddenly, Isak takes Even’s hand and squeezes it.

It’s hard to ignore the hard beat of his own heart. To lighten the mood, he says, smiling, “It doesn’t hurt that my eternal lover is with me.”

Isak huffs. “Fuck you.”

He doesn’t let go of Even’s hand.

“Be my guest,” Even throws back cheekily.

The silence between them stretches out comfortably as Even’s chuckles die down.

Then he remembers something. “Hey, what was the gift you gave your mother? The one Karin mentioned?”

“That was standard issue ‘spooky psychic’ bullshit, Even.”

“Humor me.”

“A ball of red yarn. Alpaca wool.”

Isak finally lets go of Even’s hand and cracks two knuckles, then resituates himself in bed. He swallows. “Well, if you’d have wound up in here, then I guess I would have too. Right?”

“Why?”

Even waits for an answer but Isak only stares back steadily.

“Oh. Yeah.” Even clears his suddenly dry throat. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck,” Isak says grimly.

“And maybe we would’ve died here.”

Isak raises a hand, palm-up. “Okay, Mister Morbid.” He laughs and shakes his head; it’s a lovely laugh. Musical.

“Dude, this place was fucked up. Supposedly they kept some patients in cages.”

“Well _maybe_ we escape. Have you thought of that?”

“Like Georg and Maria von Trapp.”

“Not what I would have gone with, but okay.” Isak smiles. “Or maybe our spirits would return to haunt dumbasses who want to come here for fun and ghost hunts.”

“I don’t like that. I wouldn’t want to stay here.”

“You know what?” Isak turns fully, facing him. This is the closest he’s ever been and his eyelashes are so long.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter because ghosts aren’t real.”

Even blows out a breath. “Oh, fuck you.”

“Be my guest.” Isak’s words are meant to be a mocking parroting, but they introduce a new kind of tension. One that isn’t swollen with fear, but something else.

Isak is really, really hot.

“If we died, but we’re also spirits, does that mean I would sex you up with my ghost dick?”

“Ghost dick,” Isak repeats flatly.

“What! I’m curious. I’m assuming that, since I died, my dick is also a phantom.”

“I’m not engaging with you on this.”

Even ignores that and continues on. “But how would that work? Because sex needs friction-”

“Don’t say ‘friction.’”

“-and ghosts supposedly can’t make physical contact. Then again, if you’re a ghost too, I guess that wouldn’t really matter.”

“Even.”

“Hold on, do you think ghosts can get naked?”

“Ghosts aren’t real, so no.”

“Isak, keep up. This is a hypothetical.”

“Yeah, well, _hypothetically_ you’re annoying.”

“That’s no way to talk to your ghost lover. I should withhold my ghost dick from you as punishment.”

“God.” Isak takes a breath. “Who said it’s _your_ dick that we should be theorizing on anyway?”

“Oh, I’d be more than happy to talk about your dick instead.”

“My ghost dick, you mean,” Isak says sarcastically.

“Either one actually,” Even clarifies.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Nope. Just trying to give the universe what it wants.”

“And what’s that?”

“You and I to be together obviously. The past doesn’t lie.”

For a sliver of a moment, Isak looks softer than Even’s ever seen him. Familiar, too. The slow lick of his bottom lip. The way he lifts his chin. “That woman was just talking a bunch of shit.”

Even wiggles a little closer. The bed squeaks alarmingly. “Why do you think that?”

His eyes widen. “Because that’s obviously not true.”

“Why—am I too ugly for you?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, so you don’t think I’m ugly?”

“Even, come on,” Isak shoves him feebly with his palm. His hand feels hot; Even wants it back.

“What? I mean it.”

“You obviously know you’re not ugly.”

“Oh wow. I can die happy now. And haunt you for centuries to come.”

“Funny.”

“Hey, Isak.”

“What?”

“My dick died, can I bury it inside of you?”

Isak groans and swipes out to shove at Even. Even grabs Isak by the wrists and they wrestle ineffectually, their bodies squirming in their sleeping bags and the beds making a rusty see-saw noise. Isak’s lips are parted and he’s making all sorts of delicious-sounding grunts in the struggle. With one final burst of energy, he pulls Isak against himself, and Isak’s face winds up buried in his neck.

Isak’s shoulders shake.

“Oh fuck, are you okay?”

Isak moves his face back, laughing softly, and they’re nose-to-nose. Even slides the tip of his nose upwards and Isak’s eyes close, as if he’d turned off a light.

“Is this...something you want?” Even asks quietly. “I don’t want to ruin our professional relationship.

“Professional relationship? Really, Even. Do you think I agreed to co-host some paranormal web show for fun?” Isak unfurls a new smile for him. “I heard there was an opening and thought, _Hey, I’ll finally have a reason to talk to the hot guy._ ”

“Am I the hot guy?”

Even doesn’t know what to touch or look at, so he focuses on Isak’s hair, temples, the straight line of his eyebrow. He’s really beautiful; there is no other word that suits.

“Is that. Your ghost dick?” Isak’s voice is a breathy, hoarse whisper. “Because it feels corporeal.”

“That is my actual erection.”

“Cool.”

They nod at each other and then break, giggling in the dark.

Even brings his thumb up to Isak’s bottom lip and he slides it along its curve. He’s about to do the same for the top curling corner when Isak opens his mouth and sucks on his thumb.

Normally, Even always has something to say in these moments. Some kind of encouraging, sexy remark. But he’s blank, blissfully so. Reduced to the sensation of Isak sucking the tip of his thumb, staring at him with glittery half-lidded eyes. Even could do this for a while, but enough is enough. He pops his thumb out and pulls on those lips, like he’s smearing them to the side, to make room for his own lips and tongue. They kiss. It’s unlike any other he’s experienced before. Not like a first-time kiss, a kiss with someone you’ve been steadily approaching where the first touch is cautious and exploratory. This one goes on and on, and feels deeper than that. It feels like he’s being hooked only there is no pain. And he’s simply going back, reeled back to where he was always supposed to be.

Isak is still not close enough.

“Can you get...can you climb into my sleeping bag? We’ll both fit.”

It’s dusty and dirty. They’re in the Hallager Hospital of Horrors. The only thing that’s crazy is how loud their beds squeak as they try and get at one another. Finally, Isak is in his sleeping bag, and, _Wow, he must live at the gym_ , Even thinks.

Their mouths are still busy with one another and Isak grabs at Even’s hands, pulling them to his hips, thighs, and gasping loudly when Even grabs the area right below his ass, where his thighs are at their strongest and thickest, hauling him closer.

“Oh fuck, I love your hands,” Isak moans.

Even is a giving sort. He spits inelegantly into the palm of his hand and shoves it past the triple waistbands of Isak’s sweatpants, thermals and underwear, right to the tip of Isak’s dick. Isak twitches and pants softly, thrusting into the closure of Even’s fist.

Isak freezes. “Oh no.”

“Is it a ghost?”

Somehow Isak rolling his eyes while Even holds him firmly by his cockhead makes his own dick twitch enthusiastically in response. Something to examine at a later date.

“The cameras, Even.”

The red eye of the camera stares from its corner.

“Fuck it, I’ll find a way to sabotage it tomorrow.”

His mouth goes back to where it should be—the sweet return that is Isak’s lips.

* * *

This time the mural backdrop is some kind of setter or pointer in an unnaturally lime green field of grass. Even and Isak grin at the camera, twin expressions of satisfaction.

“Hello,” Even says with a wave. “In a confusing turn of events, I had a great night sleep.”

“Me too.”

“Slept like a baby.”

Isak swivels sharply, eyes narrowed. “Do babies snore?”

Even shushes Isak, pushing his knee away playfully with outstretched fingers.

“Our investigation into Hallager Hospital for the Feebleminded supported my belief that there are spirits that bond to a place and cannot escape. There were several rooms with intense temperature fluctuations.”

“Drafts.”

“Unexplained noises. Objects moving on their own.”

“Animals. Wind. Creaking, crumbling construction.”

“And...a pervasive feeling of longing. A need to escape. Not be alone.”

Isak casts him a sidelong glance. “And ghosts still aren’t real.”

Elias’ voice comes from off-screen. “But what about all the missing footage?”

Isak and Even frown.

“What missing footage?”

“The camera in what was supposed to be Isak’s room goes to static about ten minutes in.”

“Really?” Even looks at Isak.

“And the one in the other room turned off as well.”

“That’s really strange,” Even says.

“Elias, do you think the ghosts turned off our cameras?” Isak looks around the room innocently.

“Oh no,” Even laughs.

“ _Hey, ghosts_! If you can handle cameras and want to be a part of our squad, send your resumes to-”

The camera cuts off before Isak can give out Elias’ address.

* * *

Isak falls asleep on Even’s shoulder on the way home. The only person who seems to notice that they’re holding hands is Chris, who raises an eyebrow and then snaps her fingers silently.

Even swore to Isak he did nothing to the film, before finally admitting he had. Only he lied. Even hadn’t touched the cameras. For him that’s the proof he's been looking for all this time―two beds pushed together to make a terrifying room less terrifying. A person he feels he’s known forever. Kisses that tug at him like a reminder. What a wonderful gift. 

Thousands of years. Two hours and twenty minutes. Five minutes. One.

He doesn’t just like the idea, he loves it.


End file.
